Cristian offered him a bland smile and stepped away, following his aunt. Her security team stepped in behind Cristian, cutting him off from Atlas. One of the agents, a sturdy man who could have easily been a professional boxer, scowled when he dared to look past him to watch Cristian enter the building. With no choice but to trust Cristian, Atlas returned to the car.
“Tell me about her,” he told Ioana as he slid back into his seat. He stared out the windshield at the building as if that would somehow help him see what was going on inside. Fuck, he didn’t want Cristian alone with them.
“You are going to get us killed,” Ioana whispered back.
It was such an unexpected response, Atlas actually looked at her. She was hunched over in her seat, trying to make herself as small as possible. “That’s Bryony Wharram, Angelica’s younger sister,” she continued. “She is one of the most powerful women on the Eastern seaboard. She does not tolerate rudeness or familiarity. And you, a human, may not speak to her at all.” Ioana said nothing more. She trembled and refused to look up.
The realization came too slowly. “She frightens you,” Atlas said.
“I never would have come if I’d known Cristian was meeting her. We shouldn’t be here.”
A frisson scuttled down his spine. Jasper had gotten Atlas to join their crusade because they needed access to Decebal. He’d unwittingly attempted to deliver Cristian to their hands once and, luckily, failed. What if Bryony decided not to waste this second opportunity? Maybe that’s why she’d agreed to meet Cristian in the first place. Maybe her plan was ready to spur into motion and all it needed was the last nudge to push Decebal to give in to her demands. “Is she a danger to him?”
“Family is sacred,” Ioana said. “And he is Angelica’s son.”
It wasn’t a real answer, and an unspoken but hovered at the end of her statement, though she refused to be coaxed into further conversation. She huddled in the backseat, as if a movement or a word would reveal her presence and invite punishment for it. Eventually, he gave up on Ioana and tried to plan his next steps. If a vampire like Ioana was this terrified of Bryony, it meant he’d never stand a chance against her. Jasper was human, he knew that from their sunlit meeting; he could serve as a useful target if it came to it. Which only left Bryony’s security team for him to figure out.
They weren’t impressive. The longer the meeting dragged on, the less professional they became. They got lost in discussions, laughed and joked with each other, and never paid attention to their surroundings. Their ineptitude was astonishing, and Atlas was confident labeling them as vampires also. They’d only be so arrogant if they thought themselves powerful enough to stand up to any challengers.
Well, he’d already bested one vampire before. Three made for bad odds, but at least he knew what to expect.
Almost an hour passed in brittle silence before Atlas’s phone buzzed. Pulse racing, he checked and saw Cristian’s text: I want to go.
“Thank God,” Atlas muttered. He reached for his door handle.
Ioana jerked and grabbed hold of his shoulder. Her grip was painfully strong. “What are you doing?”
“Mr. Slava wants to leave. So we’re leaving,” he said.
“Mr. Kinkaid,” she said, “he can’t just leave. Give it a bit and she’ll bring him out.”
“No.” Atlas finally wrenched free from her grip and got out of the car, ignoring her cry of “Atlas!”
The agents glanced up when they heard the car door open, but it was the sound of it closing on Ioana’s frantic call that put them on actual alert. They stepped away from the pub entrance as he closed the distance between them—forty feet to thirty, to twenty—and told him to get back to his car. Ioana swore behind him; she must have extricated herself from the backseat to follow after him.
“Evening,” he called to the other agents, forcing down the surge of fear threatening to overwhelm him. “Mr. Slava informed me he’ll be out in a minute. If you could please move away from the door—”
The smaller of the three agents stepped forward and crossed her arms over her stomach. “Return to your vehicle.”
Atlas held his hands out at his sides, showing he had no weapon, but didn’t slow his pace. “I can’t do that. Mr. Slava requested we leave and it’s my job to follow his orders.”
“Atlas, please!” Ioana begged as she rushed to catch up with him. “Cristian will understand—”
Boxer agent threw his head back and laughed. His eyes glowed amber when they caught the light and his teeth were pointed. Atlas managed to avoid stumbling and focused on the door. He needed to reach it. Needed to be there when Cristian walked out so he could assure himself Cristian hadn’t paid the price for his terrible mistake. He wanted to be there for the man he was tasked to protect, even though he’d thought otherwise before. It was almost a relief to recognize that.
Only a few steps left. He was close enough to smell the cigarette smoke on the third, silent agent. Close enough to see Boxer’s surprise at his refusal to back down.
“Last warning,” the woman growled.
“You are between me and my client,” Atlas shot back. “Move.”
She bristled, Ioana shouted something, and Atlas was about to push through when Bryony’s agents stilled unexpectedly. The door to the pub swung open and Cristian rushed out. His red-rimmed gaze met Atlas’s and the world seemed to slot back into place as he reached out. Not to the other agents. Not to Ioana. To him.
Atlas dragged him under an arm, murmured reminders that they were leaving in hopes Cristian would stop shaking. He turned so Cristian was protected by the shield of his body and started to draw him away, but Bryony stepped out of the pub after her nephew. Her lip curled when she spotted Atlas.
“Cristian, come along,” she said, as if the conversation they’d been having inside wasn’t over. “We both know it’s the best decision for you.”
Cristian shuddered against Atlas and he tightened his grip on the man, offering what little comfort he could through the touch.